


memories in the dark

by sepiapages



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kintsugi, M/M, Nightmares, Nudity, PTSD, Panic, Panic Attacks, Separation, Ship Sinkers, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-21 10:05:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11941839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepiapages/pseuds/sepiapages
Summary: And then Mark wasn't the only one who was hurt.





	1. part one: attack

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writtenFIRES](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenFIRES/gifts), [Fantismal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantismal/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Kintsugi: The Gold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9038201) by [Fantismal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantismal/pseuds/Fantismal), [writtenFIRES](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenFIRES/pseuds/writtenFIRES). 



> god i fuckin loved Kintsugi so much. if you haven't read that series, you really should. especially if you wanna read this. because otherwise it wouldn't make much sense. anyways, i've had this sort of idea since I finished reading Kintsugi and read the non-canon doc from the authors. here's my take on torturing the beans. enjoy!
> 
> //
> 
> this has been translated into Russian by the wonderful [erbrou](http://archiveofourown.org/users/erbrou/pseuds/erbrou)!! You can read it [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/6233222).

Jack had always loved interacting with fans. It was always so surreal, and every time it happened, he was always taken by surprise. The fact that he had over 16 million subscribers on YouTube, a number that was ever-growing, still wouldn’t convince his mind that it wasn’t going to stop any time soon. 

Conventions were the hot spot for meeting fans--hundreds of like-minded, energized people in the same place; the environment was perfect for Jack. Unfortunately, this time around, he was less focused on the joy and more on keeping his friends in sight. Mark, Felix, and Marzia never left the three foot radius they had silently established since arriving. 

“Melix” was still on the Ship Sinker’s website. No one was missing, but that absolutely did not put them out of danger. In fact, this was worse. 

The tension was hard to handle the entire afternoon--constant stress certainly put an ache in Jack’s muscles--not to mention the four giant cups of soda he’d been drinking the whole time. He definitely needed to relieve that fast. 

So he zipped off to the bathroom after a quick eye-to-eye with his shields and didn’t think of anything but getting to the urinal as soon as possible. 

He hardly noticed the giant, looming shadow of a man with him in the bathroom. (It was otherwise empty, but it was public, he reminded himself, and he had three buddies waiting right outside. He’d be fine.) 

He didn’t notice the creeping grin that spread across the man’s face behind him.

He didn’t notice the steps he took toward him. No, all he thought about was doing his business in the empty bathroom. 

He definitely noticed when a heavy hand planted itself on his shoulder. When he whipped his head around to meet the man’s eyes, his blood ran cold. His mouth hung open but not a sound came out. He  _ knew  _ that face. It was the guard. Mark’s guard from the very first night. The first suspect who got away due to lack of evidence, and they’d forgotten about him completely. He’d taken Mark. He’d  _ drugged  _ Mark. And now he was about to take Jack. 

The toothy grin gleamed at him, but the man’s eyes had no light in them. 

“Hello, Jacksepticeye,” he hissed. Jack felt eyes crawl up and down his body. 

“O-oh god. No,” he managed to choke out. He was going to die. He wasn’t strong like Mark. He would never survive the Ship Sinkers, he was certain.  _ Oh, god, I’m going to die.  _

Before Jack could attempt to shove his dick back in his pants and possibly turtle in protection, the man reached out and grabbed it, tightening his grip on his shoulder. Jack yelped and instinctively tried to jump back, only running into the urinal and the wall. 

“I always love the pictures I get, but sometimes, you know, sometimes I wish I could have a bit of fun myself.” The voice sent spiders crawling up his throat. Before Jack could react with more than his heart pounding, he was dragged and shoved into the bathroom stall opposite them. His shin hit the toilet bowl and his knee bent to land with a  _ thud  _ on the seat. There would be bruises for sure. 

He finally found his voice and energy, starting to struggle and snapping over his shoulder, “Agh! Let go!” It didn’t do much. In fact, it seemed to make things worse. The man wrapped his massive paw around Jack’s hand and squeezed so hard he heard his knuckles pop. He squeaked. 

The man leaned in and whispered with disgusting, hot breath by Jack’s ear. “You stay quiet now, or all your fans will get to see how much you love taking a cock up the ass. Can’t you just imagine their horror, their idol getting caught fucking in the bathroom? Stay quiet,  **Jackaboy** . Think of the kiddies…” 

He started working Jack’s jeans and briefs down his hips as Jack’s heart leapt into his throat.  _ Oh god… oh god no no no… I can’t let them see. They can’t see. Oh god oh god…  _

“And if you make a noise…” the man continued, using his palm to drag roughly down Jack’s hips and thighs, “I’ll find you. I’ll find both of you and I’ll make you suffer. I’ll make your little  **Markimoo** suffer.” He laughed. “You thought you were safe in that little cabin of yours? There’s nowhere I can’t find you,  **Jackaboy.”**

He was definitely hyperventilating now as the man ground up against him, jeans against his ass and the bulge of an erection poking just a little too close. Tears started pouring down his cheeks and he bit back a sob.  _ Oh god, Mark. I’m so sorry. I thought I could protect you. I failed. I failed.  _ He bit his lip so hard it started bleeding.  _ Quiet. Quiet. I have to be quiet. I can’t let them see. I  _ can’t. 

A bit of noise escaped, and with the first came many more hiccuping sobs. The man squeezed his hand harder and shoved Jack further up against the wall. “Shut up!” Jack managed to hold back the rest, instead focusing on the tears streaming down his face and keeping his jaw tight. 

The first stroke on his dick nearly broke his silence. He shuddered hard and nearly fell over with his weakened knees. The man just rutted up against him more and pinned him in place. A few strokes later, he was letting out whimpers as the unwelcomed feeling started swelling up inside him. He felt disgusting. Filthy. Nauseous. But all he could do was freeze. 

Eventually, the man freed Jack’s hand (which opened shakily and hung limply at his side, close to broken, he assumed) and began pawing at his ass. He gripped the the flesh and pulled it apart. 

“Mmm…  **Markimoo** was such a joyful little pup, but I always did prefer the lanky ones.” He leaned in and  _ bit  _ Jack’s ear as he stroked and stretched and violated him.  _ No, Mark… no no no leave him out of this. He’s over. Let him go.  _

Mark swirled around his brain with the pain of guilt and Jack couldn’t help the sobs that tore out of him. The man didn’t seem to care this time. Instead, the sound of a zipper joined the noise and all feeling drained from Jack’s body. 

Numb was good. He could do numb. If he didn’t  _ really  _ feel anything, he would be fine, right? It would be fine. He’d be  _ fine. _

He was silent until the man forced himself into him. It burned and it hurt and he cried and muffled his screams, but inside, he was drowning. He couldn’t feel a thing. He couldn’t see anything. Everything blurred and he just rocked up against the wall as the man pounded into him, grunting and groaning every so often. The other hand continued to stroke and squeeze Jack’s dick, which had hardened against his will. It didn’t feel like it was a part of him. His entire body was someone else’s. If he just stared at the plain white wall long enough, maybe he could drift away. 

By the time the man came with disgusting warmth spilling inside his victim, Jack was silent and unresponsive. He was skeletal. He was a shell. 

He vaguely heard the man whisper, “Good boy,  **Jackaboy** ,” before slipping away, leaving him crumpled and half naked on the floor. There was no will to move, so he just stayed there. He had no idea how much time had passed since the beginning, and especially since the end. 

Footsteps echoed in the bathroom. Something deep in his mind told him to protect himself, so he weakly curled up into a tighter ball, but all he could do was stare straight ahead. Had he blinked? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t even know if he’d been breathing. Somehow, he hoped not. 

A voice called his name, then once more. The stall door swung open and a blurry figure stood before him. He didn’t know who it was. All he cared about was being as small and as far away as possible. He shrunk into the corner and a whimper escaped his lips. The figure hesitated before leaning down and reaching out to Jack with an open palm. He flinched and covered his head with his hands.

“No, no, no…” he murmured, shivering. “Please, leave m‘lone…” 

There were more footsteps as the stranger left, but soon after that, there was the sound of more than one person stepping in and the door opened again. He held himself tighter, just wishing he could disappear.

The person seemed to be whispering, but it was just as effective as if they were whispering to him underwater. A second voice joined the distorted mess and the bathroom seemed to swell larger. It was too big. Jack squeezed himself further into the corner. 

The first voice raised in volume. He shook and whimpered. More tears slipped silently down his face and he whimpered, “Please.  _ Please go ‘way.”  _

Ages passed in silence, but Jack was certain the person hadn’t left. They’d parked themself right outside the bathroom stall. Were they waiting to use the stall? Surely there were others to use. So… were they waiting for Jack? He couldn’t fathom the idea of having to face anyone right now, especially talk to them. Explain what happened. Answer a million prodding questions. Not cry in public. (If a public bathroom counted as being in public, then that battle was already lost.)

A lot of battles had been lost in the last half hour. It took the crumbled man far longer than it probably should have to remember he’d come here, to a convention, with his friends. 

_ Oh my god. Mark. Marzia. Felix. They’ve got to be freaking out. Have they been looking for me? What are they--?  _

His thoughts halted immediately. He knew who the person waiting outside the stall was. It was  _ Mark.  _ His one and only Mark had been trying to comfort him and he pushed him away. Mark, with enough trauma of his own, was probably a mess. He was barely recovered from his experience. Now he’d have to deal with Jack. He couldn’t do that. Jack had to be strong and put this in the past now. He had to take care of Mark, first and foremost. 

But to do that, he’d need to get up. That felt as impossible as having to go through the whole ordeal again. 

Instead, he churned the thought over and over in his brain. He imagined himself getting up and walking out. He imagined hugging Mark and moving on. He imagined being home, warm and safe in his own bed. It began feeling a little more realistic. It was definitely appealing. Slowly, he unfurled himself like a limp flower that had been stepped on too many times but still tried to open to the sun every morning. 

At the first sound of movement, Mark let out a tiny gasp. Jack saw the other’s legs twitch from their folded position through the space under the door. The sudden movement made him freeze again, and the thought of interacting sent his stomach flipping and ice water flooding his veins. However, after only a minute or two of hesitation, he continued his efforts to stand up. First his arms released his head (aching neck and all), stretching out at his side, then his feet slid forward to stretch his legs. He rolled his neck and took four breaths as deep as he could. Slowly, the fog in his brain seemed to be dissipating. (He had a feeling it wouldn’t completely disappear at all today, though.) 

Finally, he used all of his strength (which wasn’t much) to steady himself and stand on his own two feet. The toilet seat and the wall provided support, despite his shaky arms and legs. Most importantly, he pulled up his pants. The action of looking down alone sent another wave of panic through him. He was bruised and red and sore, but thankfully limp. (He couldn’t imagine ever getting it up again.) 

He took a few minutes to stand and steady himself. Too many deep breaths later, he finally took his first few steps forward. 

“M-Mark?” His voice was quiet, hesitant, and stuttering. He wilted further.

There was a desperate shuffle of movement and Mark stood up to face the door. His feet pointed in, but didn’t move. 

“Jack?” 

He sounded like he’d been crying. His voice was too strained to indicate anything calm.

Jack blew out a sigh. “I’m… You can come in. Just… be careful.” The words took so much energy, he felt like he’d pass out just from the effort.

Slowly, the door swung open to reveal a disheveled, red-eyed Mark staring him down. Jack immediately lowered his gaze and shrunk into himself. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to disappear. 

“Sean…” Mark breathed. He extended his palm once again, fingers open and soft and inviting, but…  

Jack could only stare uselessly at it. He managed to lift his eyes just enough to make sure Mark saw him mouth  _ I’m sorry.  _ Mark just shook his head and blinked away obvious tears. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m… I’m here if you need anything, but not until you say it. Er…” he hesitated and rethought his words. “Not until you let me know.”

Jack nodded. He felt tears coming back hot against his eyes but he pushed them down. 

Mark rubbed his hands together nervously. “Okay, uh… Felix is just outside the door. He and Marzia are dealing with the crowd and the police. If you just… Just look at me, okay? Just keep your eyes on me and I’ll get you out of here. I'll get you home.”

_ Home.  _ The thought hit Jack like a truck. His world had completely shrunk to just include the convention bathroom. Nothing existed outside of it. But now he had to face reality, and that included millions of fans and questions and cameras--so many cameras. Everyone would see what happened. Of course they would. Everyone would  _ know.  _

He must have started hyperventilating again because Mark was calling his name and anxiously squeezing his fists at his side, obviously wanting to hold Jack’s hand. (He couldn’t. He couldn’t touch anyone. Not anymore. Not yet.) 

It took some time, but finally, Jack allowed himself to be guided out of the stall, and then out the door. His stomach squeezed and he felt himself drifting away, but he kept his eyes firmly on Mark’s heels. He never looked up once. He recognized Felix’s socks and Marzia’s shoes, and then the big boots of police officers and paramedics. Felix was shouting something and Mark was trying to talk to someone and Jack couldn’t  _ breathe.  _ It was too much.

Still, he pressed on. 

A few brief phrases made their way past Jack’s numb, ringing ears to settle in his brain. Words like  _ hospital,  _ and  _ rape kit,  _ and  _ home.  _ The ambulance ride was awful. It was bumpy and his… he hurt. He hurt a lot, and it was getting harder to ignore it as time went on. 

The first time he had to be without Mark was at the hospital. It was also the first time he really lifted his eyes from the floor. 

“Why can’t I be there for him? I’m not going to do anything! Just let me in! I don’t care if it’s a nurse. I’m his best friend. He  _ needs  _ me.” 

Mark was yelling and Jack covered his ears and rocked on his feet. He didn’t want to leave Mark, but if he could just get whatever this was over with and done, then he could get home faster. 

A light touch on his arm made him flinch, but he lowered them and caught Mark’s gaze. He was saying something and it took a few seconds for his head to clear enough to understand any of it. 

“It’s… it’s gonna suck, okay? It’s gonna feel awful and it might hurt, but it’s important. She’ll go slow. She understands. And you’ll be back here with me in no time, okay? Are you gonna be okay? Jack, I need you to respond. I’m sorry. I just need something.”

Oh. Right. He nodded and found himself being led into a small, quiet room that was mostly empty save for a computer on wheels and a large padded chair. A tall woman in scrubs came in and spoke softly, which was nice. 

“My name is Jacqueline. I’m going to have touch you, but we’re here to get the information we need to put your… the man who hurt you behind bars. I’m going to take pictures with this camera,” she held up a small camera, “and I’m going to swab you with these,” she pointed to Q-tips and other materials he didn’t recognize or remember the names of, “and in general, I’m just going to check you out to make sure you’ll be okay. Physically,” she added with an apologetic grimace. “Just let me know if you need a break and we can stop.” 

She had to run through the explanation three times before it mostly sunk into Jack’s fuzzy brain, but he managed to sit awkwardly in the chair for her. However, when she told him he had to take his clothes off, he could feel the choking sensation creeping back up his throat and he resisted the urge to scream and cry and run out of there. Somewhere deep inside, his adult brain was reminding him how important this was. 

It took ten minutes for all of his clothes to be peeled off, and most of it was done under a gown. At least there was that. They were all sent off as evidence, but then Jacqueline said she had to start examining him. 

They started with pictures. That was hard, but manageable. Lifting his gown and letting her prod at his sensitive skin was an ordeal. He only let out a small scream when she tried to get a closer picture at his rear. She tried to pull it apart, and he jumped three feet away as if she’d been made of fire. 

She patiently waited for him to calm down enough for her to start taking samples. That was significantly harder. He bit his lip to the point of bleeding again, and his knuckles could have broken with the tension he put on them. (As if he couldn’t be any paler, they were white the entire time.) 

Finally,  _ finally,  _ they were finished. It took nearly four hours, but he was let go with his own outfit of scrubs that hung loosely on his bony frame. He still didn’t feel like he could hold Mark’s hand, but he was able to look at him and somewhat describe how he was feeling. It wasn’t great, but it was something. 

No mirrors. No cameras. No windows. He didn’t look at himself once. He only got into the car that Felix had called for them and clung to his seat belt for dear life as the car took them home. 

Except, home wasn’t home. It was the hotel room, and every stranger down the hall was a threat; every corner was a possible viewpoint for someone to spy, or to drag him around and fuck him over again. His heart raced the whole walk there and he couldn’t hear anything anyone said to him. Thankfully, Mark seemed to take the brunt of questions and decided how things should be laid out. 

He led him into the room, the door shutting as quick as humanly possible and the usual handle lock was turned and he put the padlock from his luggage in the chain lock as well. On top of that, they were on the fifth floor, and they were in communication with the clerks to be undisturbed.

No one was coming in without their permission. 

Jack collapsed on the bed, immediately bringing his arms and legs up to curl into a fetal position. Mark hovered around the room for a while before he came to sit gently next to the fragile figure. Jack’s breath were shuddering and uneven, but he hadn’t cried since he’d been trapped in the bathroom. 

Finally, Mark spoke, his voice so soft it could have been a feather brushing across Jack’s cheek. “Hey. Sean. How are you feeling?”

Somehow, just the caution and stress in his voice and the break of silence set Jack over the edge. He wailed as tears flooded down his face and it took him multiple tries to get closer to Mark--first he held out a jerky hand, which Mark made no move toward, and tried to grasp Mark’s hand. He jerked it back the first few times he made contact, but then he carefully laid his fingers over Mark’s palm. He brought up his left hand and repeated the task. Then he inched closer until he was sitting almost between Mark’s knees. Then finally,  _ finally,  _ he leaned in and crashed into Mark’s open arms. He sobbed into his shirt, shaking and almost screaming with his anguish. 

“It’s okay, Sean. It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay to cry. No one is gonna hurt you. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re safe.” Mark’s voice rumbled through his shaky bones and for the first time all afternoon, Jack felt warmth spread through his insides and he sighed, leaning into his boyfriend. 

After ages of crying and fists that were too tight and quiet whispers of safety, the two had to stretch and wake up their buzzing limbs. Mark caught Jack’s eyes and carefully rubbed his thumb over Jack’s hand. 

“How are you now?”

Jack hesitated and licked his lips. He stared down at the thumb rubbing little circles over his skin. “I… I don’t know.” How was he supposed to answer? Would he ever be okay? What did that even mean at this point? He almost started crying again.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay. I get it. I just wanted to check in, but if that’s too hard for you, that’s okay.” 

Mark squeezed Jack’s hand in an attempt to comfort him, but Jack suddenly snatched his hand back with a gasp. His teeth latched onto his busted lip and he stared at the floor with tears filling his eyes again.  _ No, no, no… It’s just Mark. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’ve got to be okay. It’s just  _ Mark,  _ god fucking dammit.  _ His mind raced and he knew Mark was trying to talk again but he felt himself curling back up inside and all he wanted was to be left alone. He also desperately needed a hug, but every instinct in his body was screaming the opposite of getting any closer. 

Mark ended up crouching below him on the floor and Jack peered at him through his fingers. His boyfriend gently encouraged him to crawl under the blankets and get comfortable. He might have said something about tea too, but Jack’s head was too fuzzy, his ears were filled with cotton, and his focus was definitely not coming from behind his eyes. 

The sheets were soft and smelled fresh. Jack’s chest loosened and he was able to take a series of slow, deep breaths and even managed to close his eyes for a few seconds before his heart started to speed up again and his brain screamed at him  _ Watch out! Watch out! Turn around!  _

The familiar scent of tea filled his senses and he let it fill him like honey as Mark gently placed a mug on the table next to the bed. 

“Hey, Sean. You okay?” Mark’s eyes were shiny and his cheeks were red, but he smiled and moved slowly, and that’s all Jack could ask for. 

“I… I think so.” He cringed. His voice was too loud. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

Mark nodded, offering another smile. 

The two gradually sipped their tea without saying anything until Mark perked up. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He put his mug down and went digging through his duffel bag beside the bed. He came back and set a pile of clothes on the bed. “I figured you’d want some better clothes than hospital scrubs,” he said, smirking. “And, uh… I thought my clothes would be nice. If you want.” 

Jack hid a tentative smile behind his mug. He nodded and whispered his thanks again. 

“Okay. Cool. You can change in the bathroom if you want. Or…” Mark hesitated and furrowed his brow with though. “Or I could go in there while you change out here.” 

Jack almost wanted to laugh. They’d been more intimate than that more times than he could count at this point, and Mark was worrying about seeing his butt or something. 

Something clicked in his brain. Oh. He’d almost forgotten. Suddenly, Mark was once again the world’s best boyfriend and Jack’s chest was tight and he was staring into his cup wishing he could disappear. 

“Hey!” Mark waved and Jack blinked back to attention. “I got you, buddy. Just look at me, okay? I’ve got you.” 

Eye contact didn’t seem so hard anymore, and Jack had always loved Mark’s eyes, so he gladly followed Mark’s honey chocolate irises as he sat back on the bed and continued to talk softly. “You’re okay. You’re safe. There’s no rush. You can enjoy your tea as long as you want, and we can figure out the clothes thing later. I promise. You’re okay.” 

Jack recuperated and nodded. He downed the rest of his tea rather quickly, focusing on the ease of mind it brought and the good taste instead of… literally anything else. No memories. No anxieties. No thoughts of tomorrow, or any other time except the moment he was in. Mark’s warm gaze kept him grounded and he was grateful for this man being in his life for the millionth time. 

Finally, he put down his mug and took a deep breath. “I-I think… you can stay. I don’t want to go in the bathroom,” he said firmly, not even daring a glance at the door. “I can change out here.” He turned to look at the curtains just to double check that they were pulled. “Yeah. You can just… turn around.” 

Mark nodded. “I can do that. If there’s anything else, just let me know. I’m right here.” 

While Mark put the mugs away, Jack reached for the clothes and hugged them to his body. Mark’s scent was faint, but it still clung to the fabrics. He buried his face in the shirt and tried to relax. 

“Good idea, then, huh?” Mark laughed. 

Jack just lifted his eyes over the shirt to see Mark’s grin. He nodded and hugged it tighter. 

“Okay. I’ll turn around and you tell me when you’re ready.” 

Standing in the middle of the room was definitely too exposed and he already felt the childish fear of someone or something grabbing his ankles from under the bed, so he stayed on top to change. He tugged off his shirt without much problem except his sore hand. (Sprained and strained, but not broken.) He quickly put the new shirt on and immediately felt a hundred times lighter. 

Unfortunately, he was only half finished. His pants would be a struggle, both because he was sitting down, and because of the trauma. He absolutely, under any circumstances, did not want to look down. He also couldn’t ask Mark for help either. He sighed. 

“You okay?” Mark, ever concerned and vigilant, noticed his frustration. 

“Yeah, I-I just…” He worried his lip and stared at the pants. “My pants… I don’t want to get up. And I don’t want to see… I  _ can’t  _ see…” His voice caught at the end and he forced slow breaths into his lungs to stop himself from crying again. 

“Do you need--?” Mark started to turn around. 

“Wait, no!” Jack snapped too loudly, too quickly, and too forcefully. He flinched despite himself and curled back up to hug his knees. “No, no, I’m s-sorry. I di-didn’t mean it. I-I just c-can’t…” 

Mark stopped immediately. “I won’t. I’ll stay right here like this until you say so. But… what can I help with? What do you think you need?”

Jack’s knuckles were white as he gripped his legs. Four shuddering breaths later, he finally managed to reply. “I-I’ll do it. I’ve got it.” 

He slowly unfolded and stretched out. The plan was to pull off his pants while he leaned back and then pull the new ones on no problem, but halfway between leaning all the way back in a position that was far too vulnerable and starting to pull the baggy pants down, his head started spinning and he couldn’t breathe.

_ Hands on his legs. Hands pulling his pants down. Hands all over him, trapping him, groping him. Pulling, pulling, pulling. Too cold. Exposed. Vulnerable. Pain. Pain. Pain.  _

“Jack, please look at me. Please. I’m right here. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you. You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re okay. It’s me, Mark. Markiplur. Your Mark.” 

Someone was leaning in too close and he could hear Mark’s voice, but he couldn’t  _ breathe,  _ and he wanted to go home. He wanted everything to stop. Everything was too much. 

“Breathe. I’m right here. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. It’s me, Mark. Sean. It’s me. I promise, I  _ promise  _ you’re okay.” 

Mark. Mark was there. It was  _ Mark  _ in front of him, with his dark, fluffy hair and his big nose and his worried eyes. His vision cleared just enough for him to capture Mark’s eyes and try to stop the world from spinning. 

_ “Mark,  _ oh god, M-Mark,” he gasped. He curled into a ball, keeping his eyes locked on Mark’s, and tried his best to slow his breathing. 

“Yes, it’s me. You’re safe, I promise. It’s just me. I’m sorry I turned around, I just… You were panicking. I had to do something.” 

Jack shook his head. “It’s fi-fine. It’s fine. I couldn’t--I couldn’t do it.” He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his palms into them and rocked back and forth. “I couldn’t do it,” he breathed. 

“That’s  _ okay,  _ Sean. You’re okay. I know it’s scary, and I know you want to be strong, but you don’t need to do everything right away. You don’t  _ have  _ to be strong.” Mark swallowed and twisted his fingers. “You’ve been so fucking strong, but right now, you just have to take care of yourself. If that means crying, then cry. If that means staying in scrubs all night because you can’t take them off yet, then you can do that. And if that means I can’t hug you yet, then that’s one hundred percent fine too. I promise.  _ I promise,  _ Sean. I’m gonna be here for you now like you did for me. I’ve got you.” 

Jack shuddered and let a few tears slip by. “Tha-thank you, M-Mark. Thank you so-so much. I just… I  _ can’t.  _ You’ve been through so much  _ shit,”  _ he spat out, more angry at himself than anything, “and now you have to deal with  _ me.  _ I’m so sorry. I should have just screamed and let him kill me.” 

“Stop that!” Mark clenched his fists. “Don’t say that. I’m so glad you’re alive. I would be broken if you were gone, and you know that.” Jack could only stare at the floor and nod. He didn’t know why he let his mind get so far ahead of him and so bad. Mark sat down next to him gently and held his palm out. “I know it’s hard. It’s  _ so hard.  _ But you helped me through my shit, so I’m not going anywhere now that you have some shit to get through too. I’m going to help you too. That man hurt you, and you’re so scared something else is going to hurt you again. Right now, I promise you’re safe. It’s just us. It’s just me. And I’m sorry we can’t be home right now, but I’ll get you home soon. I promise.”

Mark was close to tears and it pained Jack to be the cause, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and absorb what Mark had just lovingly blurted. He slowly looked around the room, taking in every inch and breathing carefully. The door was locked. The windows were shut and the curtains closed. There was no one in the room but them. This was one of the safest places he could be at the moment.

He returned his gaze to Mark’s eyes and melted in their color. He was safe. He couldn’t help the anxiety that bubbled up and told him to fear everything and nothing in particular, but he could reassure himself that what Mark said was true. He could do his best to handle what he was given.

“Thank you,” he whispered, reaching for Mark’s hand with shaky fingers. He touched his palm and gradually slid his fingertips down to Mark’s wrist. He flattened his palm and closed his eyes with a shuddering breath. The feeling was familiar, but touch now sent a flicker of panic through his bones. He let it pass through and looked back into Mark’s eyes as he continued. Finally, he had his palm flat against Mark’s. That was all he felt able to do, and that was fine. 

Jack lay back in the bed and Mark curled up in front of him, a few feet away with his hand stretched between the gap to rest under the green boy’s. He sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Okay… then thank you.”

“Of course.”

They were silent for a few minutes, slowly drifting closer to sleep. Then in the darkness, Mark whispered, “I love you.”

The words hit Jack’s heart like a train.  _ He loves me.  _ **_They_ ** _ used me to torture him, and now I’m a mess, and he still loves me.  _ He swallowed and lay still, fighting tears. 

“I love you too.”

They fell asleep like that, hand in hand, Jack still in hospital scrubs from the waist down and Mark still fully dressed. A few times, one would wake up and feel his heart seize as he looked at the other with a broken smile. Mark murmured repeated “I’m sorry”s and “I should have gone with you,” and Jack cried in his sleep, curling up as tight as he could and begging to be left alone. Somehow, they made it through the night with enough sleep to keep them from falling over within the first hour of the day. 

Unfortunately, the coming days would present more challenges than they were ready for.


	2. part two: panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has to get through this alone.

Jack woke up slowly. A few times, his eyes flickered open and he registered the sore muscles that complained when he shifted in the bed, so he fell back to sleep. Eventually, the sun was in his eyes and he had been lying silently with his eyes to the ceiling for more than five minutes, but he made no move to get out of the bed. Mark was still asleep beside him with his arms curled against his chest. Every so often, he’d grunt, furrow his brow, and curl tighter. Sometime during the night, they had stopped holding hands, resorting to protecting their own against their bodies. Jack sighed as he examined his black and blue fingers and glanced over at Mark’s fists. They both had their own demons to fight now.

It must have been near ten in the morning by the time Mark stretched and sat up in the bed. He looked down at Jack with a smile.

“Good morning, sunshine. How did you sleep?”

Jack’s lips formed the ghost of a smile and he slowly let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “All right. I had… nightmares.” His gaze flickered to Mark to gauge the reaction. “Predictably.”

Mark pursed his lips and nodded, looking away. “Yeah. I’m… sorry.”

Jack shrugged.

“Why’d you let me sleep so late?” Mark asked as he saw the clock. “I should check to see if Felix and Marzia are up and waiting on us.”

“We both needed rest,” Jack breathed.

He didn’t follow Mark in sitting up or getting out of bed. He stayed slouched low under the covers and ignored his sweaty legs--the scrubs must have trapped his body heat overnight. He picked at his fingers and refused to recall memories of the past day. Instead, he focused on planning for today.

“Hey, Mark?” His voice was hesitant and quiet. It seemed it would be that way for a while.

Mark was in the corner getting dressed. “Yeah?”

“I got a round-trip flight, didn’t I?” Mark froze. “When is my flight back?”

The room was so silent, it was obvious neither man was breathing. Jack felt his throat closing up and he gripped the blankets with white knuckles. Mark tugged the rest of his clothes on and slowly turned around to face Jack.

“Jack, I… You’ve got a few more days, I’m sure of it,” he choked out. “We just… We can fix this. I know we can.”

“I don’t have a medical visa. I can’t stay here forever. I don’t… My channel… Oh, god, my schedule.” Jack’s hands gripped his throat and small tears escaped as his body shook. _Oh god, oh god… Everything is ruined. Everyone will know. I can’t let them down. I’ve failed. I can’t fail. I’m going to fail._

“No, Sean, it’s gonna be okay!” Mark was kneeling in front of him again, holding out his hands palms-up. “You’re gonna be okay. We can figure this out. My house is…” _temporary._ Without a visa or special reason, Jack had less than three days to stay before he had to board his flight back to Ireland. Alone.

Jack shook his head, barely fighting the urge to sob. “No… I’m going to let everyone down. It’s my _job,_ to make videos, and if I don’t do that… I’m gonna die. Oh god… I can’t breathe…” He clawed at his throat and his vision spun. He couldn’t hear Mark anymore. _I’m gonna die. I’m going to be all alone. I can’t do it. I’ve let everyone down. It’s all my fault. If I had just screamed… God, if I were dead, there would be a reason. But I’m just weak. I’m weak. I failed._

The voices surrounding him were muffled and frantic. He stood up and swayed. _I have to get out._ His mind raced and he tried to take a step forward, but his foot couldn’t seem to find the ground and he began falling. His stomach leapt into his throat and he couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t breathe.

He fell with a thump against something warm and solid and then arms were around him and he choked back a scream. Instead, a strangled sob tripped out and he curled in on himself, unfortunately surrendering himself to whoever was holding him. _Please. Just stop. Everything needs to stop._

He found himself lying on softer fabric. The arms let go. He gasped for air and filled his lungs frantically as he wrapped his arms around himself and curled into a ball. _Kill me. Please, just kill me. Get this over with._

The final blow never came. Instead, he was left in silence aside from his pounding heart and ragged breaths. He made no move to move into a more comfortable, but more vulnerable position. Then, a soft voice drifted through the fog.

“Sean. It’s me. It’s Mark. I’m here with you. You’re safe, I promise. No one is going to hurt you. You’re okay. I need you to breathe with me, okay? I’m gonna count. Breathe with me, Sean. One, two…”

The numbers repeated, going up to four and then starting again. After the third repetition, Jack found himself focused on the numbers and his breathing started slowing down. Finally, he opened his eyes and blinked in the harsh light. The figure before him came into focus and he almost cried with relief when he recognized the warm tone of Mark’s skin and the slope of his face smiling carefully down at him. He watched Mark’s lips move with the words he spoke and slowly, the cotton in his ears disintegrated and his chest no longer felt like it held up a lead weight.

“M-Mark, I-I’m sorry,” he choked out, twisting his fingers. He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain drove up through him and he gasped and fell back. _Right. That._ He let himself cry this time.

“Shh, you’re okay. I’ve got you. Sean. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Keep breathing.”

Mark leaned by his side and gently ran his fingertips up and down his arm. The feeling wasn’t too much to overwhelm him--it wasn’t gripping, trapping, painful; it was smooth and soft and kind--and Jack’s chest loosened even more. He continued breathing to the count and locked his eyes on Mark’s. _God, I hate this. But Mark. Mark is okay. Mark is safe._

Finally, Mark smiled and stopped counting. “Sean? Are you okay?”

Jack managed a spaced-out nod and flexed his fingers and studied the tiny cracks in the ceiling.

Mark sighed and rested his head on the bed. “You… I thought you were going to pass out. I think you’ll be fine, but I was… God, I was so worried. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He nodded again. Speaking seemed far too difficult.

“Okay. Okay. I’ve got you.” Nonverbal was fine. Mark was used to that. He could figure this out.

Marzia and Felix must have left the room for a while. Mark let them back in and they talked quietly to add something other than deafening silence. Eventually, they brought back brunch for the four of them. Burritos for all. Jack ate his slowly, drank lots of water, and mostly listened to the chatter of the group.

The first order of business was to figure out the official time frame they had to work with by checking Jack’s email receipts. The friends confiscated the computer as soon as he logged in so he couldn’t go browsing any social media and find something triggering.

“Okay. The departure is at 8 pm on Sunday. We have today, all day tomorrow and Saturday to figure this out.” Felix paused. “If… if we’re getting Jack on the plane, we’d have to be on the way by around noon to make it.”

Jack swallowed. Mark rubbed his thumb over his hand and gave him a reassuring smile. “We’ve got this. Don’t worry.”

“I’ll look up the legal issues if you want,” Marzia offered.

“Thank you, Marzia, that would be great.” Mark was visibly relieved at being allowed to stay beside Jack, who was still wrapped up in the blankets and staring at his hands.

Marzia nodded and took the computer. She sat down in a chair on the other side of the room and Felix joined her, tapping away on his phone. Mark turned back to Jack.

“Hey, Sean. How are you feeling?”

Jack blinked but didn’t look at him. He shrugged. His tongue felt heavy with guilt and he didn’t dare open his mouth or risk falling into a blubbering mess again. _I’m going to be alone. I have to go back to Ireland by myself. Why did I do this? Why did this have to happen?_

“Sean? Please, look at me. You’re okay. You’re safe. Do you want to go for a walk? We can go for a walk if that will help your head. You’re safe, I promise. I’ve got you.”

He blinked rapidly and forced himself to meet Mark’s gaze and process the question. He opened his mouth and closed it, unsure of how to respond. Did he want to go for a walk? Sure, a walk sounded nice. But that would mean leaving the room. That would mean being in public. That would mean putting himself at risk of being seen, found, attacked by **him** again. _God, how did Mark do this? How has he come so far? Everything is so fucking impossible. I’m going to die alone in that cabin. I can’t go on like this._

His thoughts swirled and eventually he managed to give a half-hearted shrug which Mark took as a hesitant yes. He guided Jack up and down the halls, keeping Jack by the wall so Mark was between him and any possible conversation or attack. Mark talked most of the way and Jack guessed his throat had to be getting sore at this point. More guilt layered up inside him and he dug his nails into his hand. _I’ve got to let him go. If I’m leaving, I have to get him to be fine on his own. He’s much better off than he was six months ago. He’ll be fine. We can… figure something else out later._ He remained silent for the rest of the walk and let Mark lead him around as their plan came together.

Then it started falling apart.

Marzia couldn’t find a solution that would work in the short notice they had. He’d have to fill out too many papers and booking places for so long were expensive, no one lived close enough, and plane tickets were already so pricey. Nothing was working, and Mark’s strong exterior was starting to crack.

“N-nothing? Are you sure?” He gripped a pillow in his fists with white knuckles and stared at Marzia with disbelief. “We can’t do _anything?_ We can’t even say, ‘hey, my boyfriend just got fucking _raped_ and you’re trying to send him to another country to sit on his own for who knows _how_ long?’ This is insane!”

The words ripped through Jack like knives. _Raped. God, there it is. I was raped. I’m one of those people. I’m damaged._ He shook with trapped sobs and hid his face from his friends. They were doing so much, and he just wanted to get out so he could stop being such a burden.

The rest of the day was spent in tense silence. Marzia curled up next to Felix and they each messed with their phones. Mark lay in the bed with Jack and showed him funny videos. Jack wasn’t allowed on his own phone or laptop. Jack hardly focused on the shenanigans that flashed across the screen. Instead, he traced patterns on Mark’s arm with the tips of his fingers. He practiced his controlled breathing. He played with the strings on his blue polyester pants. He tried his hardest not to think about anything except the feeling of Mark’s body heat next to him, and the sound of his friends around him, and the safety of locked doors.

They didn’t do much the following days either. Felix and Marzia left together, saying they were going to the movies or an arcade or out to eat. They brought back stories and food and jokes, but Jack had never felt more numb.

The morning he had to leave, he didn’t speak. It took all of his energy just to eat breakfast and get out the door. As customs loomed ahead, he felt panic rising like bile in his throat. He twisted to look at Mark for help.

“Don’t worry, Sean. I’ll come with you.”

Somehow, Mark was able to accompany him through the first few checks of his passport and ticket. The woman at the desk only asked a few questions and was satisfied at a simple, “He needs help.” He helped Jack put his things on the x-ray conveyor, but he couldn’t follow him through.

“You’re gonna be okay. I promise.” Mark’s pained face didn’t sell his confidence. “You’re… you’re gonna be fine. Just relax on the plane. That should be the easy part. Just take a nap. It’s like, what, ten hours, right? You can definitely sleep through that.” He reached out and Jack carefully laid his hands lightly over his. “You’re gonna be okay,” he said again, firmly. “When you get off, you follow people. Find baggage claim and just wait for your bags. You know how it works. Then you just gotta walk out of there. Do you… can you call a cab? Or do you want me to pre-order one for you? That would probably be better. I’ll do that while you’re flying so you don’t have to worry about it.” Mark was rambling, but his constant voice did nothing but help Jack’s frayed nerves, even if it was only slight relief.

He looked like he wanted to give Jack a kiss goodbye, and some part of the Irishman desperately wanted to comply, but most of him knew it wasn’t going to happen for many reasons. Instead, Mark _very gently_ squeezed Jack’s left hand and sent him off.

It was worse than he could have imagined. He had nearly four panic attacks just getting on the plane--between being surrounded by unfamiliar people, standing in open spaces, and being left on his own for the first time in over a week, he was ill equipped to deal with this after the attack.

But he had to.

By some miracle, one of the people in his row of three had not arrived, so he was able to sit by the window with a seat in between him and the other passenger. They left him alone. He leaned back in the seat and stared out the window as the plane slowly rose above the clouds and left America behind.

On one hand, he was leaving the bathroom behind. He would be thousands of miles away from where he was attacked, so he could breathe in that regard. Unfortunately, on the other hand, he was going to be on his own to face whatever challenges would come to him in the time it took for Mark to make his way back to him, or vice versa. He subconsciously reached up to rub his neck and took a few shaky breaths. For now, he could watch the changing colors of the atmosphere and zone out to the background noises of the plane.

Somehow, he slept. His dreams were filled with flashes of dark figures all around him and groping hands and swirling ink choking him. He woke a few times in a cold sweat and pressed his fingers into his eyes. He whispered to himself, “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.” The other passenger didn’t seem to notice or care, so he sunk lower into his seat and begged the time to pass faster. He watched the digital map that showed where he was. Finally, they passed the east coast of the United States and started their journey over the Atlantic Ocean. _Only six hours left,_ he thought bitterly.

The second the plane touched the ground, all the air left Jack’s lungs. He could already feel his mind distancing itself from reality and fought to keep his focus on the world around him as he got off the plane. (He waited for almost everyone to get off first so he wouldn’t have to deal with the bustling, shoving, impatient people.) He bit his tongue and walked with careful steps all the way down the hallway to the wide, open space of Dublin Airport.

_Okay. I’ve been here. I can do this._

He followed the signs and got to baggage claim. He stood with stiff legs and wrapped his arms around himself while he stared at the belt that went by. Finally, his bags passed. It took him a few moments to react. He kicked himself and grabbed them and bolted out of the main area.

He sat on the bags at the edge of the road and took out his phone. Mark had texted him.

_Hey, I got you a cab!_

Jack breathed a sigh of relief and noted the name and number that followed. After that, Mark just rambled positive messages. Jack felt too heavy to read through them all.

He found the cab after about five minutes of searching through the pick-up area. The cabbie greeted him with a pleasant nod and offered to put his bags in the boot. Normally, Jack would have struck up a conversation and tried to make the man smile. This wasn’t normal, though. Jack wasn’t normal anymore.

“Yer friend told me ye had green hair,” the man said. Jack jumped slightly.

He was suddenly very conscious of the faded grassy mess on top of his head. He reached up to try to push it down. “Y-Yeah. It needs to be re-done.” He offered a small smile.

The cabbie smiled back. “It’s nice.” He turned back to the front. Then, “He also told me ye’d be quiet.” He winked. “Don’ ye worry. I don’ take offense easily. Ye just relax; I’m sure it was a long flight and that jet lag must be killin’ ye.”

Jack sagged and thanked the man. He seemed nice enough, but Jack’s nerves were shot and he couldn’t take any chances. _Mark’s bodyguard seemed nice. He was supposed to protect him. We trusted him._

His nails dug into his palm as he struggled to keep from sobbing. It was going to be a long night.

When the familiar cabin rose over the horizon into view, Jack almost melted into a puddle on the floor. The cabbie offered to carry his bags up to the door, but Jack quickly refused and practically threw a wad of quids into his hand and dragged his bags up to the doorstep. His heart pounded as his mind screamed at him how rude he was, but he just held his breath as he fumbled with his keys and felt the cabbie’s eyes bore into his back. Finally, _finally,_ the door swung open and he collapsed inside.

 _Oh god oh god oh god. He knows where I live. This was so stupid. I’m going to fucking die and it’s all my fault. No, wait… Mark bought the cab. No, it’s not his fault! I should have told him to drop me off a block away. Two blocks. A whole mile. I’m so stupid. I’m going to die._ He shuddered as tears rolled down his cheeks again. He wiped snot from his nose and let himself wail. The noises echoed in the empty hall and his heart ached with the emptiness.

“God, I wish you were here, Mark,” he moaned. He pressed his palms into his eyes and cried.

A good half hour was probably spent in that one position. Then he forced himself to get up and at least bring his bags to his room. _Our room. Not anymore._ He kicked himself. _Just for now. Not forever._

“Okay,” he breathed, wringing his hands. The bags glared up at him, mocked him. He squeezed his eyes shut and blew out a breath. “Okay.”

The first step was to take off his shoes. (They ended up toppled in the corner, but it was fine. His socks would keep them company.) Next, he kneeled down next to the bags and unzipped them. (For once, they weren’t bursting with souvenirs from the convention.) Then he dumped all the contents on the floor and pushed the suitcases under the bed. He separated the clothes from the miscellaneous items in two different piles. The items were pushed to the side to be sorted later. For now, he picked through his clothes and threw most of them into the laundry bin. An outfit for the night and tomorrow were left out.

His head swam and he massaged his temples. _I used to be full of endless energy. Now who am I?_

He shoved that thought away for another time and collected the clothes. He was still in one of Mark’s shirts and the hospital scrub pants. His bare toes stuck to the wooden floor and as he walked, the sticky slapping followed him.

It was too quiet.

Would noise make it better? He’d probably feel less on edge, but there was the possibility that he wouldn’t hear someone trying to get in. Comfort vs. safety. It seemed like an obvious choice, but by the time Jack had stood up to try to climb into bed, the tightness in his chest was a boa constrictor, choking the life out of him. So he pulled up some ambient noise on his phone and left it out and plugged in. _There. I did that. Success._

_Mark would be proud._

Painfully aware of what had happened the last time he’d tried to get undressed, he figured if he was covered under the blankets, it wouldn’t be so bad. He peeled off his shirt while sitting on top, however, and shoved one of Mark’s thickest and softest shirts on in its place. He ignored how incredibly smelly he was and threw the old shirt across the room into the corner. Then he crawled under the blankets to finish the job. With the comforter tugged up to his chin, he took a deep breath and lay back. It took some awkward wiggling and exhausting muscle strain to get the pants off. Though the fabric was so thin it was hardly there in the first place, he was acutely aware of his bare legs and immediately pulled the sweatpants on. He accidentally dragged his nails up the sides of his thighs on the way up, but he welcomed the pain as a distraction.

And then it was done.

He did it.

_Mark would be so proud. I wish you were here. I wish you were here._

He didn’t dare lift the blanket to throw the scrubs away, so he simply kicked them to the bottom of the bed and turned over. He pulled the blankets as tight to him as he could and prayed that sleep would come quickly.

 

_He was in a padded room. His muscles ached and he groaned. When he tried to sit up, he was pulled back. His eyes snapped open to see chains attached to his wrists and ankles holding him down. He was naked save for his underwear._

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. What’s happening?

_He pulled with all his might, but with his arms stretched up so high above him, he had no leverage. He lifted his head to look around the room. Only a single door adorned the otherwise empty walls. The foam was dark grey, ripped, and stained. His heart pounded. Then the door opened. Two men dressed in black entered with a long whip and a blunt cylinder in their hands._

_“No! No no no please, oh god, please please don’t do this,” he begged. The pleas poured out of his mouth to no avail. They continued to step closer. “No! No! Please please please, oh god. Please. Please. No.” He hiccuped with sobs._

_One of them hung back while the other leaned over Jack and straddled him, swinging the whip. Even through the mask, Jack could see the man was smiling. He raised the whip._

_Jack squeezed his eyes shut._

_The whip whistled through the air and hit his bare skin with a sickening_ snap _and he screamed. Again and again and again. He screamed until his voice broke and all that was left was a hoarse, inhuman groan. He sobbed in between lashings and didn’t stop babbling, begging for mercy. Begging to be left alone. Begging to go home._

_He could feel his skin split and bleed some time over the course of the beating. Still, it didn’t stop. Still, his cries hit deaf ears._

_Then the whip stopped and the man walked away. He was not left untouched for long. He opened his eyes just enough to watch the partner make his way toward him. The black cylinder bobbed closer to him and he closed his eyes again, not even bothering to beg anymore. He just let the tears fall silently as the man closed in on him._

_A hand touched his skin. He shuddered and bit into his lip to stop from screaming. The chains rattled as he instinctively tried to back away, but it was no use. He couldn’t even see where they were attached--they seemed to just disappear into the ground--but he was trapped all the same. Calloused fingers dug into his thigh and the man leaned closer to him and his hot acid breath irritated his skin._

_“Be a good boy and this doesn’t have to hurt. Now lie still for me,_ **_Jackaboy._ ** _That’s a good boy.”_

 _It was a taser. The cylinder was a taser, and the man’s fingers pulled his legs apart and groped him and he couldn’t help the wails that ripped out of his throat and they were going to fucking_ taser _him if he moved. He couldn’t move. The chains were too tight, the hands were too heavy, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t possibly escape._

_He was going to die._

_He’d rather die than go through this._

_Against his will, he heard his voice murmur, “No, no, no, please, no…” and the hands gripped him even harder._

_“What’s that? Did we say you could fucking talk? That’s not a good boy,_ **_Jackaboy._ ** _We’re going to have to punish you.”_

_“No! No, please, I’m sorry!” he cried. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”_

_“Shut up.”_

_The taser was uncapped and he saw the blue electricity leap between the pegs and he was sure his heart was going to rip right out of his chest. The men laughed as he scrambled to get away and the chains clanged the sounds of his fate._

_The taser jammed into his side and he_ screamed _._

 

He jolted upright in his bed, drenched in sweat and screaming with a raw throat. His hands flew up to wrap around his neck and he folded in on himself and _sobbed._ He was in his cottage. He was alone. He was not in a padded getting tortured. He desperately tried to count his breathing. It took a good few tries before he was able to breathe evenly without breaking down into gasping sobs that left him lightheaded. He wrapped his arms around himself and rocked back and forth. Slowly, as his breathing slowed down, he ran his fingers through his hair and down his body, checking himself out. Nothing was torn, broken, or bleeding. Physically, he was fine.

But in reality, he was far from fine.

He pulled out his phone to check the time--seven am--only to find six missed calls and almost twenty text messages from Mark. There were a few from Felix, but the majority were from his boyfriend. Guilt shot into his heart and he hoped Mark hadn’t been seriously worried.

Of course he was, though.

He decided not to listen to the voicemails, knowing they would probably upset him if Mark was frantic. The text messages were first just casual checking in, but as eight pm started approaching, Mark started to get more concerned. By eleven pm he seemed to have fallen apart and just begging Jack to call him back.

Jack stared up the at the ceiling and willed the tears away. Maybe if he ignored them, they would go away.

Mark picked up almost immediately.

“Oh, god, Sean. Are you okay? I’m so glad you called.” The stress was clear in his voice and Jack felt a heavy weight settle in the pit of his stomach.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I got home.”

“That’s… that’s good. I’m glad.” Mark hesitated. “Why… Why didn’t you call… or text? When you got off the plane. Just… I was expecting you to let me know you were safe. I… I got worried.”

Jack’s heart squeezed. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t think. I just needed to keep moving. I…” He sighed and added quietly, “I don’t think I could have made it if I stopped.”

“That’s okay. Yeah. Yeah, I totally get that. I’m just happy you’re home and you’re safe. Is… there anything you need? Anything I can do?”

“No. I don’t think so. I just… The cab driver was fine. I got home. I went to bed. I managed to put on actual pants.”

“That’s great!” He could hear the smile in Mark’s voice and his chest loosened a bit. “That’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you. How did you sleep?”

“It was… hard.” He didn’t elaborate.

Mark took a few moments to respond. He imagined him picking at his fingers and staring off into space as he figured out what to say. “I… yeah. I get that too. I’m sorry you have to do this alone. I’ll… I’m still trying to figure this out. I technically have a flight back to LA but as _soon_ as I get there, I’ll get a ticket to Ireland, or something. We’ll figure this out, okay? I promise. Just… You just gotta hang on for a few days.”

Jack swallowed and stared at the wall. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll be here.”

“How’s the food there? Do you have enough?”

He hadn’t looked. Hopefully there would be some non-perishables that were still left because he did not feel up to going out shopping. (If worse came to worst, he really didn’t feel like eating anyway.)

He did his best to keep up with Mark’s questions and concerns, but for once, even talking to his boyfriend was wearing him out and he wished he could just be unconscious for a whole month. Eventually, they hung up and Jack was left to silence again. He lay back on the bed and wrapped his arms around himself. At the very least, he could count his breaths. He was stable. He was fine.

His phone sat untouched on the nightstand for the rest of the day. He wandered around the house, cleaning up here and there, mostly just trying to avoid sinking into his own mind. (All the windows were shut and locked tight, the front and back doors had all the locks turned, and every other door inside was closed so he would know exactly if he’d been in there or not.) There were some boxes of cereal and instant coffee available, so he busied himself with that. Unfortunately, as he finished the sad meal, he caught a whiff of his own scent and grimaced. He needed a shower.

He didn’t think much of it. He just went through the motions, gathering his clothes and deodorant, until he was standing outside the bathroom with cold feet. The door loomed threateningly in front of him. In his mind’s eye, he could see the toilet. He could see the plain white walls. He could _feel the floor’s chill seeping into his aching joints as he was shoved to the floor and into the wall. He could feel the hands all over his body, holding him down, forcing his legs open, grabbing at him. He could feel the bile rising in his throat and the tears collecting in his eyes. He was going to die. He wanted to die._

He found himself on the floor outside the bathroom, hyperventilating. And crying. He was sobbing again.

Jack hit his fists on the floor and rocked on his knees. _WHY?_ Why did it have to be so difficult? Why did he have to be so _afraid?_ Was he going to be stuck like this for the rest of his life? If Mark were here, he would know what to do. But if Mark were here, he’d see how broken Jack was, and he would realize he couldn’t handle it. He’d have to leave. It was the only way. Jack couldn’t help him if he was broken too. _I’m so sorry, Mark. I’m so fucking sorry. I failed._

He collapsed on the floor for a while, just rubbing his hands over his face and squeezing his stomach, trying to stop crying. “Goddammit,” he muttered, balling his hands into fists and hitting himself. “Get over it! You have to get over it so you can stay with Mark! You can’t be a problem. You can’t be _toxic.”_ The tears didn’t stop coming and his chest heaved with the uneven breaths. _I don’t want to be toxic. Please._

At some point, he’d managed to drag himself to an upright position, leaning on the wall. He clutched his clothes to himself and imagined success. He would stand up and walk into the bathroom. He would drop his clothes and undress. He would turn on the shower with nice hot water and get in. He would wash himself, get out, and move on. It was simple. He’d done it a thousand, _million_ times before. He could do it.

He managed to stand up, at least, and put his hand on the door handle. It took a few more minutes before he worked up the courage to open the door. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a few steps into the room, then felt around to close the door behind him. _One… two… three…_ and he opened his eyes.

He was in the bathroom. It was _their_ bathroom. It was safe. He was safe.

No matter how much he repeated that to himself, it didn’t stop his chest from tightening and he saw spots dance in front of his vision. _No, no, I can’t pass out now. I can’t. I have to do this._

He dropped the clothes in a pile on the floor, just like he had planned, and took more deep breaths. _I can do this. I can do this._ The next step was to get undressed… or he could turn on the shower. That he could do, definitely.

Unfortunately, that left the last step. The hardest step.

He trembled and dug his nails into his palms. _One more. Let’s go._ His fingertips touched the hem of the shirt and traveled up the fabric to reach the ring around his neck. He gripped it and held his breath. The shirt came off. His eyes were closed as he dropped it in another spot and stood still as the cold air washed over his exposed skin. He wasn’t hyperventilating… but he wasn’t exactly breathing either. _Fuck._ He counted up to four and back again to get himself back under control. Accidentally, his eyes flew open and he met his own eyes in the mirror.

They were wide, ice-blue, and filled with anxiety. His hair was a mess; the green was almost completely gone, leaving him with a tangled cloud of pale white on top of his head and short brown sides that were too long for his taste. How did he let it get this bad? He must have been too busy with Mark.

Then his gaze traveled down and he stopped breathing altogether.

His skin was pale, yes, but he looked like a sheet. A sheet with ink stains all over it. His shoulders were flecked with purple and blue bruises, his neck smattered with red and purple marks as well. He reached up to touch the skin lightly with his hand and saw just how mangled his right was. The entire thing was covered in purple and black and blue clouds and it was no wonder it was so hard to move.

However, that wasn’t the worst part. He stared with watery eyes and a tight chest at the _bite marks_ all over his neck. _The man had bitten him._ He watched as he started crying again, his still-red face only getting redder and more swollen. The semicircle dents of teeth sent a punch into his gut and he felt _disgusting._ Why did he ever like to be marked? This was awful. He wanted to die.

He hadn’t even taken off his pants yet.

This was impossible. He may as well just be buried in his own filth right now. Part of him just wanted to rip his pants off and get it all over with. It couldn’t get much worse than this, right? He’d practically passed out. He saw now that he’d been bitten, bruised, marked by someone else. He was a mess. He was _dirty._ No one would want him around anymore. He was alone.

He hit himself. _Fuck. No. Mark still wants me. Mark is still here. I… if he were here, he’d talk to me. I’d get through this. I have to get through this for him._

It was hard to believe himself, but he tore his gaze away from the mirror and focused on the final task. He checked to make sure the door was locked and then stripped his pants without another thought. He stood in his underwear and ignored how he was shaking and how hard it was to breathe. He ripped those off too. The steam was already filling the room, so he could barely see anyway. If he just didn’t look down, he’d be fine.

As soon as the hot water hit his skin, burning just enough, he could feel the tension start to fade. The shower curtain was thick and the space was small. He would be safe. He was _fine._

He did not look down once. He cleaned himself by feel very, very gently. He leaned back and let the water soak his hair and run down his body, feeling cleaner by the second. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend Mark was in the other room preparing tea and just waiting for him to step out and kiss him happily.

But he wasn’t. Jack was alone in the cabin and as soon as he shut off the water and opened the curtain, a thought hit him like a train.

 _“You thought you were safe in that little cabin of yours? There’s nowhere I can’t find you,_ **_Jackaboy.”_ **

And then he was hyperventilating again. He wanted to scream and cry and rip his hair out. _Leave me alone! Why can’t you go away? Why did you have to fucking do this to me?_

He sunk to his knees and leaned over, trying to be as small as possible. He clawed at his sides and his neck and tried to get the horrible feelings to go away. He was being _watched._ He would never be safe. He would never escape this nightmare.

Suddenly, his phone was ringing. It was still in his bedroom, but he could hear the faint noise down the hall.

He shakily reached for his clean clothes and managed to pull the underwear on, so at least he had that. Then he sat back and put his pants on. Finally, his shirt covered all the marks and he could pretend it had never happened. He ignored the way his hair dripped and drenched his clothes. By now, the phone had started ringing for a third time and he wanted to scream. He dragged himself out of the bathroom and clambered for the phone on the nightstand.

“Y-Yes? Hello?”

“Jack! They got him!”

It was Mark. His boyfriend’s voice shot through the fog and Jack blinked, trying to find the words to respond.

“Wh-what?”

“They got him! Your attacker! They found him and he’s at a police station but they have no doubt he’s going to land in jail for the rest of his life. They fucking _got him,_ Jack!”

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“He’s… gone?”

“Yes!”

He was actually alone in this cabin. He was safe from his rapist, and he could finally start to _breathe,_ and--

“I’m so happy **Jackaboy.** You’re safe. He’s gone.”

Everything shattered. He dropped the phone and backed into the wall as his vision blurred.

 _“Stay quiet,_ **_Jackaboy.”_ **

_“There’s nowhere I can’t find you,_ **_Jackaboy.”_ **

_“Good boy,_ **_Jackaboy.”_ **

He’d only heard it a few times, but the vile, toxic way it had been hissed into his ear was enough to drive a dagger into his heart and twist until he was left in shreds. He covered his face in his hands and choked back more tears. Mark’s voice was faint, but he was clearly calling out for him from the discarded phone. Jack couldn’t bring himself to get any closer. His lungs heaved and strained and he pulled his hair and pushed harder against the wall. Anything to get further away from that _name._

Mark had **Markimoo.** Now Jack had his own trigger. He was so fucked.

He wiped the snot from his nose and moaned at the ceiling. Why was everything so hard? How did Mark ever get through this? He almost screamed in frustration.

He whispered to himself and counted up to four a million times before he could stand again without swaying. It sucked, but Mark was on the phone and he had to finish this. He could deal with this later. 

Finally, he picked the phone back up, hoping Mark wasn’t in too much of a panic.

“Hey… sorry, I’m okay. I… I dropped the phone.”

“Oh, thank god!” Mark’s relief was loud and clear, but so was his panic. “Why…? Are you okay? Did something happen? Please, talk to me. I’m sorry I’m not there, but I’m here now. You’re safe.”

Jack cringed at the onslaught. “I… It’s just… You said…” He swallowed and tried to gather his thoughts. He didn’t want to make Mark feel any worse, but it _had_ been something he said. He sighed and decided to just spit it out. “You called me… Jacka--” He couldn’t even say it. His body convulsed and rejected the syllables. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You called me that nickname. That’s what _he_ called me. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, god,” Mark gasped. He didn’t reply. Then Jack heard a sigh. “No, _I’m_ sorry. I should have asked. I should have… _talked_ to you. About everything. You… you have triggers now too. I have to respect that as much as you do for me. I won’t ever do that again. I promise. I’m sorry.”

Jack nodded. “I… thank you.”

Seconds passed in silence and Jack pinched his wrists.

“So… ah, yeah. They caught him. He’s being held in a jail somewhere near the convention. I don’t even think you have to fly back over to testify, or anything. You can confirm from a picture, and then they have DNA evidence thanks to you going through the kit. You did so great, Ja--Sean. You did it. We got one of them, and maybe… maybe we’ll get the rest soon.”

Jack felt all the air rush out of his lungs, and for the first time in days, he felt light. The bodyguard, his rapist, was behind bars. He was going to stay there. And with this lead, they were one step closer to putting the Ship Sinkers away for good. Triggers be damned, he was going to get through this. They all would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually been in Dublin Airport and y'all... the stereotype is true. there's alcohol EVERYWHERE. but i fit right in with my red hair and pale skin so it was fun.
> 
> also yeAh I knOw it's kinda stupid bc Mark could just buy Jack a ticket for later or something but i needed to bend logic for the ANGST okay. also i'm probs not done with this universe. i have more angst to add. thanks for reading!


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